Who's the Sociopath?
by kendrat199
Summary: What happens when Lacey has to choose between what she wants and what she needs? She wants to solve Regina's murder, she wants to fit in, she doesn't want trouble. Unfortunately for her, Danny's presence is making everything harder and confusing. Lacey must ask herself what is she willing to give up and fight for if what she wants AND needs is going to be the same thing. Dacey fic!
1. Who's the Sociopath?

**Title:** Who's the Sociopath?

**Rating**: T (it might be M later, whatever people want). The rating is based on vulgarity.

**Author's note:** This is my first Twisted fanfic. I'm obviously a big fan of Dacey aka Danny and Lacey (you'd know if you saw my tumblr page). With that said, I'm not going to be attacking Jo or make Lacey a Mary-Sue aka the perfect girl. I hope that I fleshed out Lacey's character a bit more and made her more relatable/easier to understand. Please, if you liked it or hated it write a review! Reviews make me super happy. :] Also, if there are terms that don't make sense, feel free to ask. My major is in psychology so I love adding concepts into my writing style (yay for using the degree for something!). Enjoy!

**2nd Note**: This fic will have multiple perspectives. It won't just be narrated through Lacey's eyes.

* * *

"A sociopath can be defined by the following traits," Mrs. Fisk stated as she handed out a stack of generic print outs. "Lacey, can you read the first three, please." Her eyes skimmed the list before her lips muttered a sound. "Lacey?" The teacher looked at her and smiled.

The corner of her lips pulled upward into a small smile. "A disregard for right and wrong. persistent lying or deceit to exploit others, and using charm or wit to manipulate others for personal gain or for sheer personal pleasure". The teacher must've been satisfied with her reading for she picked another….Stephanie Cole to say the next three. She tuned her out and the student that followed her.

Her eyes scanned across the room to rest on Danny's form. Her brown eyes followed the slow curve of his pen as he crudely drew upon the paper he probably knew fairly well. Separated by three columns and four rows of students, she had enough anonymity to stare at Danny, to think what she wanted, and to imagine what he wanted and what he thought. For instance, she imagined that he'd probably had several psychologists visit him while serving his five year sentence. They were all balding, with glasses, and generic names, who never smiled, and were almost too thin. They were Freud pretenders who were quick and eager to examine Danny, to see if he felt empathy or knew right from wrong. She imagined he'd say no just for the sake of being difficult. The pen ran across his paper in one long angle as if he was crossing out something. Someone behind her must've saw the action too for she said, "Looks like Socio already knows the material, Mrs. Fisk". The class laughed, except for Danny, Jo, and herself. For her part though she smiled when others looked at her in amusement.

"Let's be mature class, really. Now, can anyone tell me how you define egocentrism? For instance, what separates the jocks from a sociopath?" She scanned the room as her boyfriend shifted in his seat. _He probably doesn't know what that means, and doesn't want to get called on._

"Archie?"

She heard him say fuck under his breathe.

"What was that?"

"Luck, ma'am."

The teacher quirked an eyebrow, her arms crossing over her chest. "What does luck have to do with my question?"

"Well…" She looked over at Archie, watched as he looked frantically at the paper as if it held clues and then at her. She smiled and mouthed the word caring.

"We're lucky to care ma'am." He said in a tone laden with confusion and cockiness.

"What?" The teacher scrunched her eyebrows together as a few students, including Danny turned over their shoulders to look at Archie, causing him to shrink in his chair.

Her eyes met Danny's and she felt the need to swallow the lump that was now in her throat. _Was she breathing? _Her hand shot up into the air to avoid focusing on his eyes, his nose, _that mouth._

"Ms. Porter._"_

"A sociopath is unable to care about other people. He—"

"It can be a woman as well, Lacey. It's not just restricted to m-"

"Yeah..okay." She nodded. "Anyways, _they _care only about their own interests and nothing about anyone else's. They'll help people only when it suits them and if someone else's reputation is at risk, it doesn't affect their ability to make a decision."

"Very good, Lacey." Her mind told her to look across the room, to see if he was looking at her, but she willed herself to look at the back of Todd's head in front of her. The bell rung and her hands raced to stuff the paper in her binder so she could avoid him…avoid_ them_.

"Alright class. Class!" There was too much noise for her to be heard, students opened and closed the rings of their binders, papers were being shuffled through, backpacks were being unzipped, while a few students took the time to catch up with their friends. "CLAAASSSSSS!" Mrs. Fisk yelled louder until everyone became quiet. "For homework, I want you to include examples of behavior that relate to the characteristics on the handout. " The class let out an aww in unison. "You can write behaviors you've seen your peers exhibit or use historical people as evidence. We'll talk about it on Friday. Have a great day."

She slung her backpack over her right shoulder and gave a half-assed excuse to Archie when he told her to wait up. Her feet moved quickly, weaving in and out of the crowds in the hallway, but that didn't stop her name from being yelled out behind her.

"_Lacey!_"

She looked at the lockers down the hall. Should she try and open her locker to change books now so that after lunch she could head to Mr. Peterson's class or should she just keep her psych book with her to make it to the cafeteria faster? If she could just make it to the cafeteria he should leave her alone.

She felt herself being pulled, a hand on her shoulder forcing her to turn around.

"I was calling you." He said. His face neutral.

She shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I didn't hear you."

"So, you're still avoiding me?"

Her eyes searched Danny's face, trying to figure out what she liked most. His hair that always seemed perfect and smooth, his bedroom eyes, his jawline, his lips…. She looked down at her shoes. She wanted to tell him, "Not here, Not now. Not in public!" But no words needed to be exchanged, he got the hint.

"I see, so I'm only allowed to talk to you when it suits you. When no one can see us and judge you." He scanned her face and she betrayed nothing. He shrugged his shoulders, and walked off in the other direction. She looked at her hands now clinging to the inside of her pockets. Had they not been imprisoned, she probably would've reached out to Danny. She let out a shaky breathe and moved towards the cafeteria.

* * *

Her fork poked at something that looked like cheese, but didn't taste or smell like it_. It was probably made in some lab._ She imagined asking Jo that question and them laughing at Danny as he mocked a scientist giving a speech on how he invented this new alien dairy product. She laughed aloud at the image only to have Sarita ask her what was so funny. She looked at Archie and Todd across from her, both now silent as they looked at her. They must've stopped talking about that new Grand Theft Auto game for the PS4 when they heard her laugh since they patiently waited for her answer. "I was just thinking of what Regina did this one time." She didn't need to explain for they went back to their conversation after a fake, but mandatory compassionate nod of the head. Regina, it seemed was a life saver even in death.

"So what are you going to wear for Fall homecoming!" Sarita looked up at her eagerly.

She bit her bottom lip. "I don't know."

"Great! We can start looking at catalogues. Do you want to come over after 4th period?"

"No, I have to do my psych homework." She looked for Jo, knowing she'd be by Danny. Though he was facing her, he didn't look at her and she pretended that the pain she felt was the cause of eating such shitty school food.

"Lace…that homework isn't due till Friday. Plus, just write Socio's name for all of the traits." Archie said, his hand grabbing some of the fries from her tray. She ignored it.

"I have a lot of homework this week. If I don't finish, I can't go to your soccer game tomorrow. Unless you don't want me to come?" _Hook, Line, and Sinker._

"No. I do! Why do you think I try so hard."

"So you can be the next David Beckham."

"Yeah, that too!"

Lunch came and went as fast as it possibly could. She meandered around people, trying to find Danny, to tell him something, anything. But there were too many people around and he and Jo were too busy laughing at something..._probably her_. She pushed the thought out of her head. The world didn't revolve around her.

4th period History went well enough. None of her immediate friends were there or Jo or Danny. She just had strangers that knew her name and smiled at her, but never asked her what she thought or wanted. They let her be and it was…comfortable.

She thought about the envelope that was sent to Regina. About the hidden bribe and death threat all wrapped into one. Why didn't she take it to Jo's father, Sheriff Masterson? She knew that if he saw it, he would have to expand the suspect pool. He couldn't ignore what could be connected to her best friend's death for the sake of a personal vendetta against Danny, and yet, if she did that she'd only make herself a pariah, an outcast of the school and the community. Besides crushing Regina's mother further by manipulating her trust and devaluing her emotions and stake in the case, she would have to deal with everyone at her school. They'd probably ask, "Wow. If Regina was her best friend, would she screw us over too to help Socio? Why would she even help that freak unless she helped him kill Regina." Everyone would abandon her quicker than her father did, leaving her with no one to talk to. At least Jo had that kid—_What was his name? Nico? And now she has Danny. No, if she was connected to helping Danny or being seen with him, she'd be a target and she couldn't reinvent herself to survive like she did the weeks after Danny was sent away._

* * *

Hours later, she laid on her bed, her right hand grasping the pencil over that handout with space enough to write something,_ anything. _

She imagined what some, if not most of her classmates would write under "Hostility, significant irritability, agitation, impulsiveness, aggression or violence" and "Unnecessary risk-taking or dangerous behavior." They'd write Danny Desai's name or his forced nickname, Socio.

But if he was the definition of sociopath, then what was she? She's manipulated others feelings and thoughts by agreeing with whatever they've said, mimicked what they thought and what they felt as a means to escape being the scapegoat, from being alone. If Danny was one side of the sociopathic coin, then she had to be the other. And, what the hell was up with high school?! With its demands to be "in" at all costs, to be us vs. them. She pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance, her right hand dragging the pencil across the words in fury. She sighed, looking for an eraser to get rid of the markings she just made.

Her eyes looked at her digital clock and then at her car keys on the night stand. She grabbed them, put on her boots, and headed for the garage.

When she got there, she didn't know how to proceed. Her eyes scanned inside. She saw mostly older patrons inside, enjoying a slice of apple pie or a sundae. In the back, with its more dimly lit atmosphere, she could see that boy…Nero or whatever and Jo, him glancing down at an open book, and her at her cell phone.

"What are you doing here?"

Her heart sped up as she heard his voice. She turned around. The lump was back in her throat again and her hands naturally found their way back into her pocket. "Hey," she said lamely.

"Hey?" He looked at her, his head shaking slightly. "Unbelievable. You've avoided me ever since the Fall Festival. You'll only be seen with me here, with Jo, where you can talk to her and around me." It looked like he was going to say more, but he moved passed her, his hand resting on the door handle. Her hand did what it couldn't in the hallway earlier. It reached out and grasped his hand.

"I—" her throat felt dry, as if it was closing in. That feeling she had of not being able to breathe returned and she looked down again.

"I don't like games, Lacey," he said looking at her, his eyes emoting something she couldn't read.

"But games are all I know," she said. She wanted him to understand. She didn't phrase it right. She could've said it better. Why didn't she say she was sick of pretending to fit in? Why didn't she hug him to tell him she was sorry?

He just stared at her, not moving away nor closer. Jo must've saw them for she poked her head outside.

"What's taking so long. Come on, Danny. " She looked at her and smiled, though grudgingly. "Lacey, are you coming?"

She looked at Danny, but he already made his way inside.

She thought about that stupid piece of paper, the other homework she had to do, Archie's game tomorrow, Regina's letter, Danny as a suspect, the night of the Fall Festival.

"Yeah…" she put on a smile that she was used to giving even when she knew it was an empty one and followed Jo and Danny inside.

Her fingers rubbed against the letter, hoping she was doing the right thing, trusting the right person...

**To Be Continued…?**

So let me know if you want this to be a chaptered fic. I have a problem with finishing stories so yeah let me know by reviewing if you want more and I'll work on other chapters. This won't be just a Lacey P.O.V fic either. Chapter 2 (if there will be one) would be Danny's chapter and, the story might include Jo's perspective or Rico's or the Sheriff's whatever the masses want. I hope you enjoyed it. Yes, I'll get into juicy awesome Dacey moments if you want more chapters!


	2. Decimation

**Title**: Decimation:

**Rating**: T (Strong language that might be considered offensive).

**Disclaimer: **I forgot to include this in the first chapter, but I don't own Twisted. If I did, I would've had every episode include Dacie kiss scenes.

**Author's Note**:

So I wrote the majority of this chapter prior to watching the episode that aired on Tuesday. With that said, if there are more chapters following this one, they might delineate from the storyline in the show. For example, I've written Rico as an accomplice to solving the Regina murder mystery, while on the show he's the snitch/the ill-suited protector. A large number of you have wanted a Jo/Rico pairing and since I love Rico, they have a good chance of happening. Like I said in chapter 1, please, please, please review. Every time I get a review, I feel like I've won the lottery. Also, feel free to critique the work and offer suggestions on how to make it better. **UrbanWitch **did just that. She messaged me on ways to make both Danny and Lacey more in character and I think this story is going to thrive more because of her contribution. :] A shoutout to **Wisedec4u **as well. Thanks for welcoming back! Sorry about not finishing the True Blood fic. I wouldn't know how to make a sequel if my life depended on it. D:

Inspiration shoutout: I doubt that the writers of Spartacus are going to read my Twisted fanfic, but if they do….this title obviously was inspired by one of the episodes. The song hemorrhage by Fuel really helped write the first half of this chapter. So woo!

* * *

_November 21, 2008_

It took only two hours for the judge to make his verdict. A minimum 5 years in Hawford's Juvenile Facility without possibility of parole. Somewhere off in the distance he could hear his mother screaming. His right shoulder tingled and he looked up into the sorrowful eyes of Mr. Denard, the defense attorney that was supposed to help him.

"I'm sorry, Danny," his long fingers pressed into his shoulder in what he probably thought was a comforting squeeze. His whole body tingled. He felt small…_smaller _in this room filled with flashing cameras, his mom's frantic screaming, the murmuring from an audience behind him, and the Judge's cries for order in the court. He counted the guards in the room, _3 in total. Pobably more outside the room_._ He looked down at their hands and stared at their fingers as they hooked _through handcuffs. He turned over his shoulder, looked for his father and saw an empty seat. He whipped his head back to the front, eyes widening as the judge started shuffling his papers.

_That's it_, he thought. The roof of his mouth felt like sandpaper. He tried running the tip of his tongue along it, but it seemed swollen, too big to speak properly. He tried to say something. The only noise he made was exhaling the breath he didn't know he held. He heard his mom scream, "No, _YOU _don't understand!" behind him. The judge didn't look at him when he sentenced him and he didn't look at him now as he turned from the podium and made his way to his chambers.

_He g_rinded his teeth so he wouldn't cry as he felt the cold metal against his wrists. Everything after that was a blur of sounds and images. He stood in the holding room. A guard crossed his arms when he looked up at him. A phone rang and the guard picked it up and muttered something into the receiver. Sounds and images moved around him in slow motion or sped up. He was confused, and his feet felt like they were tied to weights.

An hour and a half later he was standing in front of a counter, his line of sight barely above the countertop. He stared at the man sitting before him with his burly arms, barrel chest, and walrus mustache. The balding man with blue eyes the color of steel pursed his lips together before grumbling. He couldn't understand him.

"_**Belt off. Cell phone off."**_

He looked down at his khaki pants. He wasn't wearing a belt. He didn't own a cell phone. He looked around, saw a boy start to unbuckle his belt buckle, while another tossed his phone into a bin. His hands started to shake in the handcuffs, and for a split second he thought about running when he was yanked backwards.

He felt air leave him as arms wrapped around his small frame. "Danny! Tell them why you did it." His brown eyes met blue ones. He felt her tears fall on his cheek as she pressed her face against his. "Danny! Danny, you have to tell them." Her fingers dug into his arms, fingernails pressing through fabric into his skin. He started to cry then, slow at first. When she started to shake him and kept screaming, "You have to tell them! We need to know! Danny! _DANNY!" _His vision became blurry and his throat tightened. He heard wailing and didn't realize he was the one who made the sound until the burly arms of the guard separated him from his mother. He was prodded through the line, hands patting him down to search for weapons. His hands grasped the pile of change clothes and shoes he was given by a female guard like a lifeline. He matched the older boys march as his fingers hastily wiped at his tear-streaked face. _Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot._

Before turning the corner into the long hallway, he looked at his mother now held by the guard at the lobby's entrance. Her puffy eyes stared at him and widened with every second that passed, with every step he took away from her. He wanted to ask where his father went. Why wasn't he here, but instead he screamed, "Tell Jo and Lacey, I'm sorry."

In the changing room he removed his outside clothes, his _old _life's clothes, while avoiding looking at the older, taller boys who were doing the same thing. He swallowed the lump in his throat as his legs stepped into the jumpsuit. His feet slid into the shoes two sizes too big. "I can't fit into this. I need a size 5" He said in a whisper.

The guard stared at him, narrowed his eyes, and said, "You wear what's given to you. If you don't like it, go naked."

He tied the shoelaces into a tight double knot and sloppily rolled the edges of his pant legs up. He could feel his feet sliding in the shoe, heel occasionally poking out from the back as he moved to the cell block.

The atmosphere changed as he walked passed cells, some occupied, some empty.

"_**Fresh meat! Fresh meat!"**_

He felt a knot of pain in his stomach, his cuffed hands pressed against it.

"_**We're goin' fishin' for fresh meat!"**_

He looked at the boys in front of them. Saw the tallest one square his shoulders, head held high. He tried to do the same, but heard someone to his right scream, "_**Ay yo! Yo!"**_

He kept walking, pretending that he wasn't the target. Passing the cell, he heard behind him in another voice, "_**Look at this bitch. He think he tough. We'll see who's tough come 6!" **_

He felt nauseous and his eyes began to water, but he kept walking. _Right foot, left foot, right foot, left._

He almost bumped into the boy in front of him when the line stopped moving.

"Listen up, boys! I'm gonna call your number. When I call your number, come to the front of the line, we'll take off the cuffs and tell you your cell number and the letter that corresponds to your bed. You'll be bunking with someone else, so play nice." His right hand grasped the clipboard, his left pointer finger running along the list of numbers and names.

"590351," he shouted, eyes scanning the line, looking through him.

"_**Here" **_Two clasped hands raised in the air.

"_**Cell 14, A"**_

A blonde boy, four inches taller than him stepped out of line, walked to the front, rubbed his new freed wrists, turned to the left and went inside the small room.

"594843!"

"_**Here**_"

"Cell 14, B."

And so it went. 639483, 839583, Cell 16, B, Cell 20A until the line thinned.

He couldn't remember his number, and began to panic. He could feel beads of sweat collect upon his brow as more and more boys moved to the left and right.

"794321!"

His palms became clammy. He rubbed them vigorously against the harsh fabric of his pants

"794321!"

He stared at the boy in front of him, his eyes fixed on his bald head, hoping that he was the one being called.

"Danny Desai!" The guard shouted.

He squeaked. _They_ laughed.

"Know your number, Desai. Move to cellblock 22A."

He moved as fast as he could without falling. He noted the two empty cell blocks that he passed until he reached his own. He felt the air thin as he moved into the 6 by 8 room. He saw the toilet and the cold polished metallic frame that acted as a mirror. He waited for his roommate, the last boy to come in and claim the only thing he owned now: a bed.

He waited and waited for what seemed like hours instead of seconds. The bars were closing and he lunged towards them as if they would sense him, reverse their movement, and let him free.

"Sir! I don't have a roommate."

"You don't get one, 794321!"

He wanted to scream that his name was Danny. That he wasn't just a number, but his mouth thinned.

"Alright, boys. Here's the schedule for the remainder of your time at Hawford. Every day between 6am to 3pm you will be going to class…."

Down the line he heard a few boys moan loudly in unison.

"Hey!" the guard said, "One more word out of anybody and I'll make sure you're cellmate's with Miles."

The silence was deafening.

"Good! Where did I leave off."

"Class, boss," someone said.

"Yes, right. Breakfast is at 5 am, lunch is at 2pm, and dinner is at 6. Lights out at 8:30. Wakeup call at 4am. If your case mandates community service you will start work at 3:30pm. Each cell has a counselor. Your counselor will help you adjust to this situation, and hopefully, help you understand what life will look like for you if you keep screwin' up." He paused, waiting for the last line to sink in.

"Any questions?"

He had a lot of questions. When can he see his parents? Could he call his friends? Could he write to them?

"Good! I suggest you get to know your cell mate seeing as you'll be stuck with each other for the remainder of your term."

He heard the sound of the guards' footsteps as they echoed off the walls. He listened to the small chatter around him. He heard laughter, threats, and idle conversation as his eyes looked at the lower bunk, its pristine covers untouched.

He climbed up the steel frame and crawled over the thin wool blanket, resting his head on the pillow. It felt rough against his skin as he burrowed his face into it, holding a scream inside. He didn't remember crying or falling asleep, but when he heard a loud whistle screech and the sliding bars retract, his eyes were swollen and itchy, and he felt disoriented.

* * *

5.58pm

He held his tray in his hands, eyes glancing occasionally to the contents on it. One roll that looked as hard as a stone was set off to the side, while a small mountain of peas was stacked to the left attached to a portion of casserole. A plastic container of lettuce without cheese, without croutons, without _dressing _settled alongside a pudding cup and a Coke Cola soda can His brown eyes scanned the room, glancing occasionally at the spread out circular tables in the mess hall. He walked by the first table, eyes on the floor.

"She wanted it, man. Practically begging for it, but when I tried to give it to her, she couldn't handle it," a chunky boy with straw-colored hair elbowed his friend.

"She's probably a dyke," a redheaded boy to his right countered.

He shifted his focus to the blond boy.

"What the fuck you lookin at?"

He stared down at the linoleum floor and hurried away, ignoring the laughter behind him.

He found a table in the very far end of the room unoccupied by the older, taller, _stronger_ boys. The whirring of the air conditioning system drowned out the hum drum from the other tables, and explained why it was abandoned.

He grabbed the stale roll and placed it in his mouth, using his tongue to soften the bread before biting into it. His stomach churned as soon as he swallowed so he placed it back down on the plastic tray. He examined the room and observed the groups at each of the tables. To the furthest left, closest to the kitchen serving line were the two boys who had laughed at him. From his seat he could look at their faces without consequence. The chubby boy looked no older than 14, though still older than him by three years. He had a pushed in nose with beady eyes set too close to the bridge of his nose. To his right was the redheaded boy, slim as a weed, chinless, and covered in freckles. To the right of their table, were four boys, much older than the blond and redhead. They looked as if they could be related. They had the same physique, lithe, yet muscular, long dark hair that reached their shoulders, and hand gestures that matched as they talked with the same bracelet dangling from their right wrist.

The redhead and the blonde laughed aloud at something and one of the boys from the adjacent table stood up from the bench and stared at them. He watched, fork halfway between his mouth and the tray as the two boys rushed off.

He looked down in case they looked down the hall and caught him staring.

He tried the peas. They were cold and too mushy. His lips pursed together and he gave up on eating altogether.

He looked at the other tables, observed groups of two, three, and four trying to figure out what made them a group. The tables closest to him were filled with boys like him. Skinny things who looked as scared as he felt. They'd look at him, their eyes would widen when he smiled and hastily looked away. They were scared and yet, despite that, they wouldn't be caught dead sitting with an 11 year old. .

The other tables though….they looked harsh. Broad shouldered, stocky arched backs, eyebrows furrowed as they ate their food in silence.

He saw a pale boy march towards him and on instinct, he stood up.

"Not so tough now."

"W—what"

"W-W-W-what" he mimicked, mouth pouting. "Fuck is wrong with you. Can you talk."

"Y-y-yes." He squared his shoulders, which made the other boy laugh

"You ain't gonna survive in here if you talk like that." The older boy sat down at his table, grabbed his tray and pulled it towards him. "You're gonna be hungry tonight."

His hands grabbed the pudding cup, thumb and pointer finger pulling the lid off. He tilted his head, his tongue dipped into the dessert and spooned it into his mouth.

He reached for the gelatinous cube of casserole and reeled his hand away when the boy slapped it hard.

"Ow!"

"Don't take what isn't yours." He narrowed his eyes at him.

"But it's my food."

"Is it?" The boy arched an eyebrow, a frown appearing

"Yeah…y-y-ou took it." He breathed, trying to make his voice steady. His fingers throbbed painfully.

"So it's mine." The guy flipped the empty cup over and pulled on the tab of the Coke Cola, draining it in a few gulps.

"That's not fair." He protested, grinding his teeth together.

"This is Juvie, 794—" he stood up from the table, hands going to the pockets on his jail slacks, "nothing about this place will be fair."

He flipped over the tray and sauntered off as tables around him murmured around him.

The guard saw everything, Danny just knew he did, but he looked at him and told him to clean up the mess.

By 8:00pm it was pitch black and all he could hear was the sound of a toilet flushing and his rumbling stomach.

He was starving.

* * *

_Present day, 2013_

The warm, cinnamon-scented air greeted him when he opened the door to _Johnny Cakes _and he suddenly felt… horrible. He felt her move past him to sit in the booth and followed after her, thinking why he had snapped at her like that.

A tiny voice in the back of his mind told him. _Because you like her. Because she's just like you. Because you don't want to be the "other guy". Because you could ruin her. _He breathed in slightly as the voice receded.

He crammed beside her in the booth, looking at Jo and Rico across from him, instead of looking her way. The terrible feeling he had when he entered the diner tripled as he felt her elbow against his. He turned towards her to get her attention, but she moved her arm from the countertop to her lap.

"Well….this is awkward." Rico said, looking between him and Lacey. His hand curled into a fist and extended over the table.

Danny arched an eyebrow in confusion, not understanding at first.

"What are you doing, Rico?" Jo turned towards the brown-haired boy, perplexed.

"I figured it couldn't get any more tense than now…" he trailed off, his arm started to retreat.

He reached out and fist bumped him causing Jo to scoff then smile.

"See! Now…we can actually talk about Regina's real killer," Rico smiled.

"We should just look at the letter and not write off-." Lacey began to say before being interrupted.

"Danny," Jo finished, her eyes narrowing at the girl beside him.

He felt something against his leg and looked down to see her left leg touching his.

"All suspects," she corrected.

"The only suspect is Danny, Lacey."

Rico looked at him and curled his hand into a fist again. He shook his head no and Rico set his hand back down on the table.

"According to you, Jo, Archie's also a suspect," Lacey snapped.

Jo became silent, her arms crossing over her chest.

"Can we see the letter." He looked forward, afraid to look at her for fear that he'd wrap a protective arm around her shoulders.

She laid it in the middle of the table and Jo grabbed it, while Rico leaned over her shoulder to read it.

"Woah." They said in unison.

"This is huge, Lacey!"

"Maybe."

"What do you mean maybe? This is clearly connected. Why didn't you take this to my dad?"

"Why? So I can have the whole school hate me for sticking up for Soci—" she corrected, "Danny? What if I'm wrong. What then, huh, Jo!"

"Why do you care so much about what those superficial sheep think of you," Jo countered.

"Come on, Jo. Go easy on her. She's lost her best friend. How'd it look if she went to the police and defended her friend's killer."

"Stockholm syndrome," Rico stated.

"What?""

"They'd say you held her prisoner until she fell in love—"

Jo interrupted him, "You're not the killer, Danny."

"I'm not? That's a relief" he joked. Jo smiled, Rico and Lacey didn't.

"So who would want to kill Regina?" He asked seriously.

"How about Phoebe? She's melodramatic and it would be just like her to put on a real life murder mystery with Danny as her pawn."

"No. Phoebe was jealous of Regina, but she loved her like a sister." Lacey offered.

"She slept around a lot…so maybe it was—" Jo began.

"Archie?" Lacey countered.

The tension came back tenfold.

"That's not what I meant, Lacey. But we should look at all possibilities."

"Why don't you offer up this mysterious disc that Regina supposedly made him?"

"Why don't you give this letter to my dad!"

_This was going to be a long night_, he thought. "So," he put on a charming smile that placated only one person. "who wants pie?"

Rico was the first and only person to say he wanted some.

He got up from the booth, missing the sensation of her leg lightly pressing against his own. At the counter, the server took his order, albeit grudgingly. He dug into his pockets and placed a five on the counter. The server made to give him his change and he told him to keep it. He placed his back against the dessert case and looked at the booth that they were sitting at. He could've walked over to sit back down at the booth until the slice of pie arrived at the table, but he took the time to collect his thoughts, to get away from the situation, to observe Lacey.

Hie watched her as she crossed her arms, and tilted her head to the side. His lips tugged into a small smile, wondering if she was biting her lower lip now-something she used to do when she was younger...whenever she was holding something back.

He wanted to go up to her and apologize for what he said, for how he reacted when she came to him, when she sacrificed everything to try and help him. A part of him wanted to grab her by the back of her head and kiss her. He took a step towards the booth just as the server/cashier called to him, this time with a smile on his face instead of a grimace.

He grabbed it and said, "Wait…actually. Can I order a slice of quiche?"

He scooted in beside her and gave Rico a slice of apple pie who began to sing, "When the world is gray and bleak, Baby don't you cry. I will give you every bit of love that's in my heart. I will bake it up with a simple little pie."

He heard the loveliest sound he's ever heard since being back in Green Grove. Laughter. He looked over at Lacey as she tried to stifle it.

"One quiche," the server came over and placed it in the middle of the table with a fork.

"Quiche?" Lacey turned to him, her brown doe eyes stared into his.

"Yeah. You still like quiche, right?"

"Yeah…." She hesitated, looking at the quiche, then him, then back at the quiche. "You remembered that after 5 years?"

"How could I forget anything about you, Lace?"

He watched her lips as they formed an o-shape, watched as she was about to say something before thinking better of it. She grabbed the metal fork, carved a piece of the pastry and brought it to her mouth. Her lips opened over the prongs of the fork, her eyes closed, and her lips formed a smile as she swallowed.

He looked away, feeling his pants getting tighter.

"Lacey, did you go through the rest of her mail?" He asked, his voice slightly strained. He cleared his throat.

"Yeah…I couldn't find anything else that came close. The rest were thank you letters from editors she followed, and a few from family members about an upcoming reunion."

"It doesn't have a sender," Jo piped up.

He turned to Lacey. "Did Regina ever talk about someone threatening her?"

"No…she talked about this one guy she met from Connecticut. She never mentioned him threatening her though, only that he was her boy toy."

"Well, maybe this boy toy is the guy who sent her the letter. It's from a Connecticut address," Jo opened the nondescript letter as if she overlooked something.

"So what do you want to do, go on a road trip to Connecticut?" Lacey asked jokingly.

"Perfect! We could look it up on Google maps." He answered seriously..

She turned to him, eyes widened in disbelief. "So let me get this straight. You want to go look for a man that has probably sent Regina multiple threats and you want to show up at his door."

"Yeah…" he said hesitantly.

"So what are you going to say when he opens the door? 'Oh hey, Regina is dead and we know you've been threatening her. Admit it you killed her?!'"

"Well not in that order, no." He said.

"This isn't funny, Danny." Lacey said, her eyes blinking rapidly, trying not to cry.

Automatically he leaned towards her an apology on the tip of his tongue, "I'm s—"

"Can you get Regina's laptop from Mrs. Crane?"

Lacey turned towards Rico. "I don't know, maybe…..why?"

"We could use it to see if her computer has any keylogging software."

"What?" Danny, Lacey, and Jo said in unison.

"It's software that can record passwords, files, email addresses, pin numbers, you name it."

"And…you know how to do this," he asked, eyebrows rising towards his hairline.

"No….but I do know someone that does."

"Who," Jo asked, surprised.

"You don't know her," he retorted.

"_Her?" _She paused, looking around the room as if he and Lacey knew what and who Rico was talking about.

"_Yeah… I have connections," _Rico grinned, shoving a heaping mound of apple pie into his mouth.

**TBC…?**_._

* * *

Okay guys, you've made it all the way down. Send a review! Tell me what P.O.V (point of view) you'd like to read next. Jo's, Lacey's, Danny's, Rico's. _Dead Regina._ Whatever. **Note: **For Danny's chapters, I will be splitting it between the present and the past so you can see how he's developed into who he is now.

Also. Are you dying from waiting for a new episode of Twisted or an update from this fic? Need more Dacey fics in your life? I recommend the **Danny x Lacey** tumblr blog (if you have tumblr) and **A Variation On the Word** **Sleep** by Some Kind of Exquisite on here,

If you want to follow my tumblr, my name is kendrat199 on there as well. Have a fantastic day!


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